Hiakowa entered the Sonoma biking complex, impressed by the size of the facility. Here enthusiasts and beginners could purchase, learn to ride, or even design a bike. People could arrange travel plans for any kind of biking tour any place on earth or another planet that welcomed recreational sporting. Races could be entered and trainers for hire waited for clients. Hiakowa, having learned to bicycle as a child, had a few friends at the academy who taught him some of the basics of mountain biking. He remembered weekend excursions and rocky trails and the memory stole over him with a sense of adventure. Ben Switzer and Steve Malone had talked him into a biking trip for shoreleave and then changed their plans at the last minute. But why not go by himself?

"May I help you?" a young woman with a shirt sporting the Sonoma biking logo approached.

"Yes," Hiakowa committed to impulse, "I need a mountain bike for three days and I'd like to book transportation for a trail expedition... today."

"Very well," she smiled, "We'll get the bike first, come with me."

Hiakowa followed her to a counter where holos of different bikes were displayed. "Would you prefer to rent an existing bike or purchase one designed for you?"

Purchasing a special design bike promised to be expensive... but Hiakowa suddenly didn't care. He could take it back to the Endeavour when leave was over and use it on the holodeck. "I'd like one designed please."

"If you'll stand in the booth there to your right," she punched in some commands on a hidden console behind the counter.

Hiakowa stepped into the tiny booth, listening to the quiet whir of scanners at work. The sensors made quick measurements of his head to determine proper helmet dimensions, of his height to create a bike frame the right size, even of his hands to gauge the break levers the perfect distance from the handles. Returning to the counter, he found a holo of a bike waiting for him.

"What style of bike?"

He looked at her blankly.

"You know; road, mountain, race, hybrid, sand terrain, ice tread-"

"Standard mountain."

"Okay," a few taps on the console and the little holo bike had wider tires and heavier frame, "Standard fork or full or front suspension?"

He considered this, trying to recall his friends' conversations from their rides back at the academy. "Front suspension."

Technical questions finally dwindled down to, "Color?"

"Red and silver."

"Gloss or matte finish?"

"Gloss."

"Top of the line components?"

"Yes," he didn't care what it cost now, he wanted the best.

"Let's see... pedals. You want clips or clipless?"

"Clipless."

She finished adding this information and then asked "Want your helmet to match the bike's color?"

"Yes, and I'll need a complete set of gear, gloves, sunglasses-"

"Hold it," she gestured to the next counter over, "Accessories are Lori's department. She'll help you while I send this order over to the design department. We'll have your bike in twenty minutes."

In less than an hour, Hiakowa found himself fully outfitted with a bike and every accessory imaginable. He signed up for the next transport and waited, assembling his new belongings. The travel packages came in every selection from group to single tours to every ridable destination. He had chosen a single tour, leaving with the 'random destination' option. At least once per day one of the Sonoma travel shuttles would take clients who had not chosen a destination and make stops at good biking locations. People could examine the area and chose to take it or wait for the next stop. Hiakowa, though he generally disliked surprises of any kind, found this idea fantastic.

An assortment of travelers climbed into the shuttle, their equipment loaded into a compartment by two men in their early thirties. They introduced themselves as Gary and Dean and served as their pilots. Dean, his casual attire neat and his blond hair short, gave a brief description of their proposed destinations. Gary, with dark hair in need of a trim and clothes that looked slept in, interrupted Dean as often as he could. He flirted with the female passengers and complained that his work load for the week had doubled since the new manager came in. As they made stops and let people off, Hiakowa discerned that Dean wanted to do his job and Gary wanted to annoy Dean.

No one got off at their next stop. Dean glanced around, "No one?" to Gary he said, "I'm not surprised... we should take this place off the route."

"Wait," Hiakowa snapped out of a daydream. He didn't know where they were, but impulsively, he wanted to see it. "I'm getting off."

Dean got out and handed Hiakowa his gear, "You're sure you want off here?" he squinted at the sky, "It doesn't look so bad now, but November's not a good time of year to ride this place."

"Why?" Hiakowa wished he'd been paying better attention.

"The weather can get bad without any notice. The weather service doesn't interfere much because of the wilderness reclamation department and the Arco disaster controversy," he shrugged, dismissing the reasons, "just one of those places that they let nature have free reign on."

Too late he wondered why he hadn't been listening closer. He didn't want to ask so foolish a question as 'what place is this that I've decided to get off?' He regarded the warmth of the air and the brightness of the sun. It looked perfectly inviting, quiet and restful. "I'll take my chances."

"C'mon Dean!" Gary was impatient, already climbing back inside.

"Here," the guide gave Hiakowa two clear bottles, pointing to the tiny black cube inside each, "The filter in these will make it safe to get water from streams. They're supposed to be able to filter drinking water out of mud, but don't try it."

"Sure," Hiakowa agreed and shook the hand that Dean offered, "Thanks."

Dean gave a nod in farewell and followed his co-worker. The shuttle took off, leaving Hiakowa on the edge of a mountain trail, and hopefully, on the edge of a grand adventure. He found a trail with a rustic wooden sign posted nearby. He studied the hand-carved arrows, considering his options. One was 'cutoff to Crestline trail', another read 'Arbon', the last said 'Dayline/Mink Creek recreation area'. This last trail headed down into a distant valley and Hiakowa decided it looked the most inviting. He finished fastening his equipment onto his bike, put on his helmet and gloves, and got on the bike. The clips on the shoes fastened to the pedals with a quiet click.

Ten yards down the trail, he slowed a bit, preparing to stop for one minor adjustment. He forgot his feet were clipped in and as he coasted to a stop he found he couldn't step down. The bike toppled over, taking Hiakowa with it. He crashed gently onto the ground, unharmed. Laughing, he disentangled himself and got up. It was wonderful to have real dirt to land in, real sunlight shining down from a real sky. He didn't care what anyone else might think, holodeck sunlight just wasn't as good. In an hour everything he had learned before came back to him and he rode along with every confidence. Rocks were easily steered around and shallow streams ridden through like puddles. It wasn't long before he came to an ancient road, seeming as old as time itself.

Hiakowa stopped and left his bike leaning against a tree. He studied the path before him with interest. The road had been readily taken over by the wilderness, plants growing up through its hard surfacing, breaking the black tar and rock concoction into chunks. It was strange to think of long ago generations travelling on this road, people who had come and gone centuries before, leaving behind only fractured bits of a road they once travelled. A sudden cold wind brought the young man back to the present and he wondered if he should have heeded the advice given him. Riding along he left the silent forest behind and found himself on the edge of a valley. The land, dry and rather empty, reached out before him. Mountains ringed this desert country and Hiakowa studied it for a long moment.

In a way it was the ugliest place he had ever seen. And yet there was something beautiful to it. Small patches of green could be seen in the vast stretch of parched dry land. Dark formations of lava rock broke up the landscape and though he looked long and hard, Hiakowa could see no evidence of civilization. What was this place? His study of geography had not been so thorough as to tell him where this desert of sage and rock could be. North America, he knew with certainty. Northwestern north America. But where exactly?

By afternoon he had reached the valley floor. Animals had worn winding trails through the land and he found himself riding through a lonely area of rock and scrub brush, dodging little cactus plants at every turn. Rabbits, their tiny feet kicking up little clouds of dust, crossed the path before him and groups of birds exploded into the air from time to time when he came upon them and startled them. Eventually he found a trail at the base of the mountains that followed a small river. Here the ground flourished with grasses and trees. When the sun began to set over the mountains the sky burned a fierce shade of pink.

Hiakowa was just about to set up the small tent from his equipment pack when a sound overhead caught his attention. It was the transport shuttle from the Sonoma biking company. Hiakowa approached it with curiosity. It was the ever helpful Dean who greeted him as he stepped out of the shuttle.

"What are you doing here?"

"Come on, bring your stuff," the guide said simply.

"Why?"

"The weather service officials have asked us to pick up anyone we brought out here, they're letting a winter storm move in."

"But, but..." Hiakowa protested all the while he was agreeably loading his equipment into the shuttle.

As they lifted off Dean said, "Don't worry, I'll drop you off at Moab. That's where you should've gone in the first place."